it’s your father’s favorite.”
“I didn’t make it,” said Ann, replacing the lid. “Believe it or not, I hardly ever cook now, Mom. But Selma, your caregiver, is supposed to be wonderful in the kitchen.”
“Is she here?” asked Eileen, peeking through the space under the cabinets into the living room, as if she’d missed seeing her on the way in.
“She was here a while ago,” said Ann. “Maybe she had to run out for something.”
Together, they walked back into the living room. Eileen sat next to Sam on the couch and Ann sat in the chair facing them. She looked at her father’s face, both familiar and foreign, and couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She looked down at her hands in her lap.
“Everything looks so fresh and clean,” said Eileen.
“Yes,” said Ann, happy for conversation. “I’ve redone it.”
Sam looked at Ann. “When will the others arrive?” he asked.
“Who?” asked Ann.
“Don’t tell me they’ve canceled,” said Sam, switching his gaze to Eileen.
“No one’s canceled,” said Eileen, patting his hand.
Just then, Selma came breathlessly through the door carrying a baguette. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I forgot the bread.”
“No trouble,” said Ann. “Come in and meet my parents.”
Eileen stood and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Selma.”
“And you, too, Mrs. Sanford,” said Selma, shaking it.
“Please, please call me Eileen. You’re awfully nice to be here with us.”
“That’s my job,” said Selma. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”
“Well, if that’s your soup I smell, I know we will,” said Eileen. “This is my husband, Sam.”
Sam scooted forward on the couch cushion, readying himself to rise. Selma approached him and set her hand gently on his shoulder. “Please stay seated,” she said.
“Have we met?” he asked, searching her eyes for signs of recognition.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “But it’s nice to meet you now.”
“When do we eat?” he asked. “I’m as hungry as a black bear in spring.”
“Soon,” said Selma. “I’ll go check on things in the kitchen.”
Silence filled the open space. “Well,” said Eileen, after a moment. “I’m going to grab a few things from the car and start unpacking.”
As soon as her mother turned to go, Ann stood. “Let me help you,” she said.
“I’m fine,” said Eileen, calling over her shoulder as she walked to the door. “I’m just going to get my duffel bag. I’ll get the other bags after lunch.”
“What can I do?”
Her hand on the doorknob, Eileen called to her daughter, “Stay with your dad. It will take him some time to adjust to these new surroundings.”
Ann sat back down in the chair facing the couch, her father, and the string of saliva hanging from his chin. She looked at the floor. Forcing her eyes to his face, Ann said, “So, Dad. How was your drive?”
“Fine,” answered Sam. “How was yours?”
“I didn’t have a drive,” said Ann.
“How did you get here then?” asked Sam.
“I live here. This is my house.”
Sam smiled at her. “You’re putting me on.”
“No,” said Ann.
After a moment, Sam again shifted his bottom to the edge of the couch cushion. “Well, I’ve had a nice stay,” he said, “but I’ve got to get home now. My wife will be looking for me.”
Alarmed, Ann stood and put her arms out in front of her, to give herself time to think, to stop him from moving. She called for Selma, who appeared from the kitchen just as Sam, who was more off the couch than on, slid to the floor and covered his face with his hands. “Leave me alone!” he shouted in a raspy, warbled voice.
“What is it, Dad?” asked Ann, frozen in place.
“They’re out there again,” said Sam, pointing at the large living room window. “They’ve followed me here!”
Ann glanced at the window and saw nothing but clear glass, the grass, and the back of her house. “Who, Dad,” she asked urgently, “who
“I didn’t make it,” said Ann, replacing the lid. “Believe it or not, I hardly ever cook now, Mom. But Selma, your caregiver, is supposed to be wonderful in the kitchen.”
“Is she here?” asked Eileen, peeking through the space under the cabinets into the living room, as if she’d missed seeing her on the way in.
“She was here a while ago,” said Ann. “Maybe she had to run out for something.”
Together, they walked back into the living room. Eileen sat next to Sam on the couch and Ann sat in the chair facing them. She looked at her father’s face, both familiar and foreign, and couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She looked down at her hands in her lap.
“Everything looks so fresh and clean,” said Eileen.
“Yes,” said Ann, happy for conversation. “I’ve redone it.”
Sam looked at Ann. “When will the others arrive?” he asked.
“Who?” asked Ann.
“Don’t tell me they’ve canceled,” said Sam, switching his gaze to Eileen.
“No one’s canceled,” said Eileen, patting his hand.
Just then, Selma came breathlessly through the door carrying a baguette. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I forgot the bread.”
“No trouble,” said Ann. “Come in and meet my parents.”
Eileen stood and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Selma.”
“And you, too, Mrs. Sanford,” said Selma, shaking it.
“Please, please call me Eileen. You’re awfully nice to be here with us.”
“That’s my job,” said Selma. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”
“Well, if that’s your soup I smell, I know we will,” said Eileen. “This is my husband, Sam.”
Sam scooted forward on the couch cushion, readying himself to rise. Selma approached him and set her hand gently on his shoulder. “Please stay seated,” she said.
“Have we met?” he asked, searching her eyes for signs of recognition.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “But it’s nice to meet you now.”
“When do we eat?” he asked. “I’m as hungry as a black bear in spring.”
“Soon,” said Selma. “I’ll go check on things in the kitchen.”
Silence filled the open space. “Well,” said Eileen, after a moment. “I’m going to grab a few things from the car and start unpacking.”
As soon as her mother turned to go, Ann stood. “Let me help you,” she said.
“I’m fine,” said Eileen, calling over her shoulder as she walked to the door. “I’m just going to get my duffel bag. I’ll get the other bags after lunch.”
“What can I do?”
Her hand on the doorknob, Eileen called to her daughter, “Stay with your dad. It will take him some time to adjust to these new surroundings.”
Ann sat back down in the chair facing the couch, her father, and the string of saliva hanging from his chin. She looked at the floor. Forcing her eyes to his face, Ann said, “So, Dad. How was your drive?”
“Fine,” answered Sam. “How was yours?”
“I didn’t have a drive,” said Ann.
“How did you get here then?” asked Sam.
“I live here. This is my house.”
Sam smiled at her. “You’re putting me on.”
“No,” said Ann.
After a moment, Sam again shifted his bottom to the edge of the couch cushion. “Well, I’ve had a nice stay,” he said, “but I’ve got to get home now. My wife will be looking for me.”
Alarmed, Ann stood and put her arms out in front of her, to give herself time to think, to stop him from moving. She called for Selma, who appeared from the kitchen just as Sam, who was more off the couch than on, slid to the floor and covered his face with his hands. “Leave me alone!” he shouted in a raspy, warbled voice.
“What is it, Dad?” asked Ann, frozen in place.
“They’re out there again,” said Sam, pointing at the large living room window. “They’ve followed me here!”
Ann glanced at the window and saw nothing but clear glass, the grass, and the back of her house. “Who, Dad,” she asked urgently, “who
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